


we were born to make history

by lady_ragnell



Series: history makers [1]
Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Partnership, Romantic Friendship, alternate universe - figure skating, past character injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 22:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10817772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: Dutch thought her pairs skating career was history when her partner was injured. When she goes to a new rink, she meets John Jaqobis, who's also recently looking for a partner and who should be below her level but turns out to be everything she needs.





	we were born to make history

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for any and all inaccuracies about the skating in this fic. I looked up scoring/program guidelines and watched some videos but wouldn't call myself anything close to an expert. I am aware that I have greatly simplified the figure skating season and hope you will forgive me for it.
> 
> From the Killjoys side, I named Dutch's husband (and also stole the Yardeen surname for her, which I believe was originally his). I hate naming other people's unnamed characters, but it was necessary for the story and I hope the name is sufficiently sci-fi-ish not to throw people out of the story! Also, my apologies for the lack of Lucy in this fic, I couldn't find a graceful way to put her in.
> 
> The eternal question of my Killjoys fics is whether or not John and Dutch are in love. Perhaps one day I will answer it to my own satisfaction.
> 
> Title is, of course, from Dean Fujioka's "History Maker" from the Yuri on Ice soundtrack. Some things are meant to be.

The first time Dutch meets John Jaqobis, he's carving a perfect spiral into the beautiful clean ice she's supposed to be skating on, and the only thing that keeps her from skating out and decking him is the fact that her left skate isn't laced.

“Hey, dickhead!” she yells instead, viciously satisfied when his ankle wobbles at the surprise of the sound. “This is my ice time and I made sure to reserve it alone.”

He slides to a deliberately showy stop not far from her, frowning. “Nobody ever reserves this time, because the rink is technically closed.”

“Well, I worked out a deal with the owner, because I like privacy. And since I'm paying through the nose for it, that and some clean ice seems like the least I should get.”

“Well, la-di-da, your Highness,” he says, dripping with sarcasm. “Funny thing is, the owner is my brother, and he usually tells me when someone's coming to interrupt my usual session.”

He doesn't look much like D'avin at first glance, but it makes sense. When he'd told her about the rink, the skaters who usually practice, the schedules for public skates and classes and events, he'd mentioned that his brother has done some competitive skating and that he's using the rink pretty much whenever anyone else isn't, but he didn't seem like he wanted to be pressed, and Dutch didn't care to press him. “It was last-minute. Check your phone. I imagine he's responsible enough to have texted you about it.”

“Look,” he says, and Dutch expects a fight, expects to call D'avin and tell him to control his damn brother, but he smiles instead, and it brightens his face up, makes him look younger. “I had a really shitty day, and it looks like maybe you did too, and I skate pairs.” His chin goes up. “You do too. Can't we just share the damn ice?”

If he skates pairs, he doesn't do it at a very high level if she doesn't know his face. But if he skates pairs, he knows who she is, knows where she came from, knows what cut her season and her career short last year. But he isn't giving her pity, isn't asking nosy questions, isn't asking for her autograph. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Johnny. That's it. Come on. Let's just skate.”

And Dutch, to her own surprise, finishes lacing her skate, tests to make sure it's sitting right, and glides out on the ice, all her muscles relaxing with the familiarity. He skates back, giving her space, and when she doesn't start yelling, he gives her another one of those sudden grins, turns, and goes back to skating—it doesn't take much to recognize him warming up, and Dutch does the same, falls into the rhythm of practice.

He's easy to ignore in a way that most strangers aren't. Most people, especially most who don't skate at her level, make her nervous. They'll come to a sudden stop, or move at an unpredictable angle, and she pays attention constantly to avoid a collision. Johnny never does, and Dutch, as she gets warmed up finds herself making a challenge of it, running through an old step sequence and watching out of the corner of her eye as he practices a camel spin and comes out of it just in time to get out of her way as she approaches his side of the ice.

He's a good skater, with the kind of precision that betrays the kind of training that could take him far, and Dutch waits until she knows he's watching and gains speed until she goes flying into her first jump in weeks, a triple lutz that doesn't wobble at all on the landing.

She thinks she's showing off until she catches his grin across the ice, and then both of them are realizing it was a challenge at the same time, and he's gaining speed, mirroring her, form excellent for an unplanned jump, especially considering she doesn't know what his programs were like before he stopped for whatever reason he stopped.

Then they're concentrating on each other, eyes locked across the rink, and Dutch knows this synergy, knows how to take someone else's cues even without music to give them a beat.

The sit-spin isn't perfectly synchronized, but oh, it could be.

Both of them are grinning when they slide to a stop in the middle of the rink, breathless more than they should be after so little skating, Johnny red-cheeked and Dutch's hair escaping its bun.

“You know,” he says, full of the knowledge of her history and just why she's here at a rink in Old Town, perhaps the least broken-down city in the broken-down state of Westerley, why she _feels_ so broken-down, why she came alone. “It doesn't have to be over.”

*

Johnny's coach is named Bellus Haardy, and she frowns at them both for almost three full minutes when he shows up to his next practice with Dutch.

“Did you just bring me Yalena fucking Yardeen like she's a puppy who followed you home and you want to keep her?” she asks, friendly enough despite the strong language.

Johnny just grins, not taking her at all seriously. Bellus is going to be a very different kind of coach than Khlyen, Dutch can already tell. “I prefer to be called Dutch,” she says, since she'd like to start out on the right foot, “and I think we followed each other.”

“You've been wanting me to find a new partner since No'a left. She's the best partner in the business!”

Bellus seems to instantly decide that Dutch is more open to reason than her own student, who's been training with her for who knows how long. Dutch tries to look thoughtful and responsible, but she just feels giddy, like a kid bringing her first boyfriend home, or at least how she imagines that must have felt. “He's not up to your usual standards,” Bellus says, brutal enough to take some of the wind out of Dutch's sails, mostly because when she looks to her side, Johnny doesn't look like that bothered him.

“So I don't go to Worlds again,” says Dutch, and shrugs like that wasn't what she spent her whole life training to do. “I still get to skate. I still get to skate with a partner.”

“You should see her,” says Johnny, sketching the shape of a jump in the air. “She could make a quad if I could throw her hard enough.”

A flash of horrible sense memory leaves Dutch reeling, and when she looks at Bellus, there's a frown on her face like she might know more than the journalists do about what happened in that practice accident. “You should see _us_ ,” she says anyway.

“Nobody is trying quads until I see you skate together,” says Bellus, and from the way Johnny beams, Dutch suspects that they've won.

*

“I hear you're skating with my brother,” says D'avin Jaqobis, coming up to stand next to her while she watches the zamboni go around the ice, cleaning up from her practice. Johnny had to leave early from their second practice, to work a shift at the local hardware store, and Bellus put her through her paces.

Dutch isn't quite sure what she and D'avin are. Friends, she thinks. They met at some stupid benefit she shouldn't have gone to when the scandal was so new, and he was some idiot retired hockey player, but he was kind, and when she got drunk he kept her from fighting anyone, and he talked about Westerley, the rink he owns there, how he's trying to make it a place serious skaters can train, because his brother always loved it. She ignored that part then, how wistful he sounded, but she thinks about it now. “We're trying it. How does he feel about it?” She feels like a middle schooler asking a boy out by proxy, but she doesn't understand Johnny Jaqobis yet. She'd like to.

D'avin, unhelpfully, snorts. “You think he'd tell me?”

“He's your brother. So yes.”

D'avin frowns, keeps looking out at the ice. “I got drafted when Johnny was still pretty young, and before that I was in the junior leagues. I sort of left him in the lurch. We're working on it. But he doesn't exactly confide why he's taken on a new partner when last I heard he was going to retire since No'a wanted to and go to school for computer science.”

“You don't think it's a good idea,” she surmises, tucking the knowledge of how close John was to retiring away for later.

“I think if it goes wrong, it's going to go _really_ wrong, and that makes me nervous.”

Dutch pauses for a moment, considering that. Her stakes are low here. This isn't her home rink, and these aren't her people. If her hopes are dashed, well. Her hopes have been dashed before. She likes D'avin, but it wouldn't break her heart to disappoint him and find somewhere else to go. She doesn't know Johnny's stakes yet, but she suspects they're higher. “He's good,” she finally says. “Maybe I'm selfish, but I think it's worth trying. If I hurt him, it won't be on purpose.”

*

Dutch was supposed to have a solo skating career. More prestige that way, a greater chance of making a name for herself, not to mention for Khlyen.

The day after it all ended, he called her, interrupting her bedside vigil for Kazo and the apologies he kept brushing off, and said the solo career could still be arranged. She hung up on him, speechless with rage, though she thought about it after.

In the end, she decided against it. Nothing compares to being lifted, being thrown, _flying_ like solo skaters don't, really, jumps or no jumps.

The first time she tries a lift with Johnny, just something simple to test their balance, she almost cries at how good it feels to be in the air again, trusting her balance to someone completely, letting him anchor her to the ground on just a pair of blades.

“We need to get you doing more weight training again,” Bellus calls from the side of the rink, giving Johnny a critical look. “Your hold was a little shaky by the end there. Do it again.”

Dutch holds her hands up like a child wanting to be held, even though it's terrible form, and Johnny grins at her and lifts, and she's flying again, the whole world right like it only ever is on the ice.

They're going to be great, she decides as his hold changes, urging her into the next position Bellus is calling out. Maybe she'll never win another medal, but they're going to be great, because the wild joy on his face when he puts her down is exactly the way she's feeling too.

*

The first time Johnny throws her, just a single loop, Dutch can feel as he lets her go that it's wrong, and her stomach lurches with the worry and the landing at once. She stays on her feet (she always stays on her feet, even when she shouldn't), but he's sprawled, ungainly and groaning, on the ice. After a second, he starts laughing, and Bellus doesn't seem overly concerned, but Dutch feels wrung out, terrified, and when Johnny looks up, he frowns. “Hey, you're okay, right? You didn't land wrong? We can call Pawter for you.”

Dutch is still stuck on the ice of another rink, stuck on the moment she turned around, celebrating a perfect landing of a quad-throw lutz out of a risky position and found that her perfect landing had been at the expense of sacrifice, at the expense of an injury they knew would end their partnership before Kazo was ever carried off the ice. “I landed fine. You're okay? Please tell me—you're okay, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, bumps and bruises to ice later but nothing bad.” His face is solemn as he takes her offered hand and lets her help him to his feet. He hasn't once asked about what happened, and now she suspects he never will.

Bellus did, brutal and unflinching and blessedly private, making sure Dutch doesn't have any hangups that will put both her skaters in danger. It's only now Dutch realizes there may have been more impact than she thought, and she doesn't like the way Bellus frowns at them like she's ready to call it all off.

“Hey,” says Johnny, recalling her attention. “I fucked that up. Let's try it again.”

Dutch wants to say no, wants to tell him he could get hurt, but this is skating. They all choose that every time they step on the ice. “Let Bellus tell us what we did wrong first,” she suggests. “Then we can practice it till we drop.”

Bellus yells and tells Johnny to think more and tells Dutch that if she freezes up she's off the ice, and Johnny alternates between looking contrite and grinning sidelong at Dutch like they're in on some kind of joke. After a minute, she can even see it as one. He's not wincing, not sensitive to the light. He didn't hit his head, didn't break anything. Didn't hurt himself too badly trying to make her fly.

The second time, he gives her enough lift and warning for a double loop, and she takes the opportunity, and both of them beam when she lands it and he's on his feet, in perfect form.

*

Dutch starts getting to know the people around the rink. They show up to Johnny's practices, and at first she stiffens up, sure that they've come to stare at her, that they heard some kind of rumor about her return to the sport.

Instead, she finds that these are Johnny's people, even if there's an element of curiosity. There's Pree, who owns a bar not far from the rink and designs most of Johnny's costumes for competition, not to mention helping him pick the music. There's Pawter, who's a physician with a specialty in sports medicine and who trained on the ice when she was young until she declared she wanted to play hockey and her parents pulled her funding. Alvis, a monk who comes to the community skates because he says being on the ice makes him feel closer to the Mother Tree and who Dutch likes instantly. Fancy Lee, a former teammate of D'avin's who pretends he's coming by to disparage D'avin's post-retirement plans and make fun of “baby Jaqobis” but isn't at all convincing about it.

The only person who never stops by, in fact, is D'avin.

“You two aren't close,” Dutch says one day when they're cooling down after practice, Bellus off somewhere talking to Pree and leaving them safely private.

Johnny, of course, knows exactly what she means. He always does. “He was away for a long time. Shit kind of sucked for a while. We're working on it, but ...” He shrugs. “Doesn't really bother me. I always liked hockey, hard to live in Westerley and not care about hockey, but he always got antsy at my competitions and it kind of carried over.”

Dutch is learning Johnny's cues off the ice as well as on, now. She knows that things aren't as simple as that, because family is never simple, but she knows he won't say anything more about it yet. He's warm, and he's fun, and he's the best partner she's ever had on the ice, but he's private, too.

She doesn't mind. She's got subjects she doesn't want to bring up either.

“We'll make him show up with a big glittery sign,” she says, winning a smile out of him. “First competition we do. I promise.”

*

Competition, miraculously, isn't out of the question. They're putting together elements like puzzle pieces, day by day, everything clicking into place. Dutch knows her TES will go down, skating with Johnny, but her PCS will go up. It's a fair trade.

“This is Turin,” says Bellus after a month of practice, waving at a man with long hair and a sour expression. “If we're going to be ready for the competition season, he needs to start on some choreography.”

Dutch grins at Johnny to find him grinning back already. It almost doesn't matter where they'll be competing, as long as they get to do it together, but she asks anyway. “You think we'll be competing this season?”

“We have a hell of a lot of qualifiers to get through if you want to make Nationals, let alone go on farther than that.”

Johnny coughs, choking on his own surprise. “Wait, Nationals? I know Dutch is good, but I'm literally carrying her even if she's metaphorically carrying me, and I am not Nationals good.”

Turin crosses his arms. “My choreography for damn sure is. And she is. Keep up.”

Dutch wants to object, tell them she doesn't care if she never competes in another big competition, but when she turns to Johnny to make sure he's not insulted, he's looking at her, serious and thoughtful. “You want to go to Nationals?”

A “yes” slips out before she can qualify it.

“Then we're going to Nationals,” he says, and turns back to Bellus and Turin, who look smug and annoyed, respectively. “What do you need us to do?”

Practice is brutal. They spend so long being put through their paces that Dutch lands on her ass doing a single loop to mark a jump, which is what finally leads Bellus and Turin to let them go for the day.

Dutch follows him home. She's spent most of her life valuing her privacy and the rare moments she could catch on her own, but Johnny's company is by far preferable to her own, and it's coming to be a habit that they go to ice their bruises and relax together instead of apart. Johnny studies for his classes and Dutch realized the second time she followed him home that she doesn't have any hobbies and has been reading his old textbooks ever since, trying to find one she's interested in.

Today, he doesn't pick up his laptop and start typing faster than she can process, even after they've settled down with everything they need to relax the morning's aches and bruises. “You really think I can do it?” he asks when she finally prods him with her foot.

“I really think we can,” she promises.

He doesn't look like he believes her, but she has time to convince him.

*

Once Bellus decides their partnership is worth joining the competitive cycle, she works them harder than ever. Dutch stumbles home exhausted every night, and when she wakes up in the morning, it's to an alarm telling her to get to the rink, or to go running, or to go to the couple's yoga class she and John signed up for and almost got kicked out of in the first session for giggling their way through.

Pawter clucks at them when she's helping them ice their bruises, and D'avin frowns whenever he sees her, but bags under her eyes and sore feet and all, Dutch is happier than she's been in years. She's going on the competition circuit, and there will be eyes on her, but the crushing weight of expectation is gone, and Johnny continues to be a miracle of a partner, any inexperience canceled out by the way he seems to know exactly what every twitch of her muscles means.

Turin brings them a short program, after consultations with Bellus and both of them, and they start work on it while he works on the free skate.

Dutch shouldn't be surprised when reality intrudes.

“Yala,” says Khlyen when she picks up her phone against her better instincts. “I've heard some gossip that says you've found some kind of new partner in Westerley. I don't like the look of his stats, and the coaching staff in that area is not up to our standards. Come home. I have people to audition for you. And if you insist on keeping him, you need me all the more to keep him from holding you back.”

Johnny and Bellus are on the ice, Dutch watching from the side to rest her knees after a rough throw landing. Johnny is working on their step sequence, drilling it element by element with Bellus marking Dutch's steps and yelling at him alternately. In the middle of the chaos, he looks to the stands, searching Dutch out, and grins at her. “Don't you dare.”

“Be reasonable. You would have had golds at Worlds last season if you'd skated the programs—”

“Your programs, your pushing, are what almost ended my career and did end Kazo's.”

“He couldn't keep up to your standard either.”

“No, he couldn't keep up to _yours_ , and neither could I, and neither can anyone who isn't your precious daughter and I'm _not her_.”

A brief and icy silence. Dutch refuses to fill it. “You could be great. You could be a legend,” he finally says.

Johnny picks up speed and does a triple loop. She doesn't think she's ever met someone who could smile while he jumps like he honestly loves what he's putting his body through at that moment. “If anything,” she says, “I'm not good enough for him.”

Khlyen starts to say something else smooth and probably cruel, but Dutch hangs up on him. She may regret it later, but for now, her knees are feeling better, and she wants to try again.

*

Delle Kendry calls her two days later, after some skating blog posts pictures of her and John practicing a throw.

“Yalena, I've missed you at the rink.”

It might have occurred to her to miss Delle, if she'd ever thought about anything but getting away from Khlyen and his sphere of influence and any reminders of blood on ice. They've never been precisely friends, or precisely girlfriends, but they have a habit of hooking up after competitions, and Delle is the only person at Arkyn Rink that she cares about at all.

Of course, that doesn't mean she cares about her much.

“Did Khlyen put you up to this? I have another coach and home rink, it's not against any of my contracts, and I'm quite happy here.”

“Is it possible to be happy in Westerley?”

Dutch wonders if everyone she used to know were always such terrible snobs and she just never noticed. Well, Kazo wasn't, but she can't talk to him, not now. “I don't say things I don't mean.”

“Pity,” says Delle. “I was really hoping you'd decide to take on a solo career and I'd get to compete against you.” She sniffs. “Good for your ego, I suppose. I'd hate to crush you.”

Dutch hangs up. Delle takes more energy than she has right now, and she doesn't want to bother with any of it, any of these people from her old life telling her Johnny isn't good enough for her.

She's had a few calls from journalists. Maybe she should talk to one or two of them, if only to tell people to get off Johnny's back.

*

They breeze through the qualifiers for Regionals—hardly have to know their programs, though all the work is paying off and Dutch is nearly back to top form. Someone from the rink is there to cheer them on every time: Pree, Pawter, Alvis, even Fancy once, though he claims it's just because he wants to try hooking up with one of the women's singles competitors.

“Does it bother you that D'avin doesn't come?” she asks Johnny after their short program at the last qualifier before Regionals, when Bellus has sent them away to rest and they've crashed in Dutch's bed, both of them too tired to bother doing more than putting on pajamas.

“I didn't go to his hockey games when he was playing. Even when he was playing in Westerley.” Silence. “Yeah. It bothers me. We were kind of doing better, but I think it threw him when I got back into competition.”

“Why?”

“Hell if I know.” He sighs. “We just don't get each other pretty much ever, not since we were kids, even if we both love the ice. And one time when I was in Juniors with No'a and he was the most popular rookie in the QHL, he came to a competition and he got asked for a million autographs and we came in second-to-last, and I told him not to come anymore. I guess he thinks that still stands.”

Dutch throws her leg over him to get a little closer and wonders briefly how she lived without him, before she found him on her ice. Wonders if D'avin knows what he's missing. “You could always tell him that's not true.”

“Yeah.” With her head tucked against his shoulder, Dutch can almost feel his throat work when he swallows. “But then what if he doesn't come anyway?”

He'll come if Dutch has to drag him. She's not going to tell Johnny that. She very much doubts that he would appreciate it. “Why wouldn't he come when his baby brother is going to go to Nationals, and maybe even Worlds?”

“You keep on overestimating me,” says Johnny, but he sounds pleased, and Dutch lets it stand.

*

“Regionals are your first real competition,” Bellus tells them at the rink when they've barely recovered from their last qualifier. They're on the ice more and more, enough that sometimes they have to share it when they're doing their less complicated elements, and Dutch has caught D'avin watching them a time or two, but she hasn't had a chance to do anything about it yet. “You're doing well, but not well enough. I want to change your elements composition a little in your short program, and we need to drill your free skate more, the spin at the end is sloppy.”

“Do you think we have a chance?” Dutch asks, more in idle curiosity than in worry. “For going past Regionals, for making a good showing in Nationals?”

Bellus hums, looking between them. “I'm more optimistic than I was a month ago,” she says, and Dutch knows that's all either of them is going to get out of her.

*

Dutch makes sure to wait until Johnny is in one of his computer science lectures before she goes to knock on D'avin's office door.

“Hey,” he says, warmer than she was really expecting. “What can I do for you? It's been a while since we talked.”

The extra chair in his office is a used recliner that's sinfully comfortable and squeaks loud enough to be heard in the hall when she puts her feet up. It's made to sit in for long periods, for someone to keep D'avin company. She really hopes people do it, sometimes. “I wanted to officially invite you to watch us at Regionals. Some old rinkmates of mine will be there, and it would mean a lot to me. And to John.”

He frowns, but he doesn't shut down like she half-expected he would. “He doesn't usually like me showing up to his competitions.”

Of course it's that. Or at least it's the excuse most easily dealt with. “So he said, when he was a dumbass teenager jealous of his brother's fame.” She sighs. “Look, he's nervous. So am I, honestly. We both want this partnership to work out. And it's good having Pree in the audience, or Pawter, or even Fancy, is great. But you're his brother, and you're the reason I found him. It would mean a lot to have you cheering us on.”

“I'll think about it,” he says at the end of a silence that's more thoughtful than hostile. “I'm supposed to be doing a charity thing that week, but if I can't make it for Regionals, I'll make it for Nationals. Everyone says you're good enough to make it.”

Dutch raises her eyebrows. “And who exactly is everyone? Because from what I can tell, we're very much a dark horse. Bellus is refusing to commit herself to anything resembling optimism.”

“Pawter, her family's been involved with the sport for a long time. Pree, who skated Juniors. Fancy, who doesn't know all the scoring shit but says you guys are good.”

“So they're spies, are they?”

D'avin grins at her. “I may not come to his competitions, but I keep up. You should see my YouTube history.”

“Look, it's not my job to sort you two out, but maybe you should tell him that sometime. I think he'd appreciate it.”

“I'll think about it,” says D'avin. Dutch suspects he won't talk about it, but she does think he'll try to show up to a competition for them, even if it has to be next season. “Want to stick around in here for a while? I know the beginners are on the ice right now.”

Dutch doesn't really feel like getting out of his chair, and she thinks it might be good for both of them if she hung around for a bit. “Sure, I've got videos of some of the Regionals competition to go through, check what John and I are up against.”

“Watching tape,” he says, nodding wisely. “Don't bother putting on headphones, I don't mind the music or the commentary, I'm just doing paperwork.”

She ends up staying almost two hours until Alvis shows up in the office and lets her know that the ice is free and John texted him sounding worried so she might want to do something about it.

She can never be grateful enough that she ended up at this rink.

*

Almost the first person she sees when she arrives at Regionals is Delle. Johnny left her to give a hug to one of the other women's singles competitors, a girl named Clara who's just joined Seniors this year and whose prosthetic arm hasn't stopped her from racking up scores that will make her a fierce competitor for Delle.

That leaves Dutch to get a stiff, awkward hug from Delle. “So glad to see you back at competitions that are worthy of you, even if your partner isn't,” says Delle, cheerfully pissing her off, wanting to bait her when Dutch knows there's press in the room.

“I hope you don't do too badly in what must be your last season before retirement,” Dutch says, just as cordially. “I hear wonderful things about Clara.”

“Khlyen is around, he'll want to say hello,” Delle retaliates. “Any time you want to ask to come back, he'll take you. If you get tired of slumming it.”

Dutch opens her mouth, ready to say something else cutting, but over Delle's shoulder she can see that Clara and Johnny have disengaged and Johnny is looking for her. She could bait Delle for another twenty minutes, and maybe they'd end up fucking in a hotel room, but Dutch is done with that, done with everything about Arkyn Rink. “I can't see myself getting tired of it anytime soon,” she says, and goes to invite Clara to lunch.

*

Their short program is shaky, and both of them know it the whole time they're bowing to the judges and the very forgiving audience. Dutch wants to blame the fact that she glanced to where she was expecting Bellus to be standing during their step sequence and could swear for a second that Khlyen was there instead, but truthfully, they're just off, John's arms buckling during a lift, their side-by-side spins coming out of sync like they haven't in weeks and weeks.

Dutch holds Johnny's hand while they wait for their scores in the kiss-and-cry, mostly ignoring Bellus, who at least has the heart not to yell at them when there are cameras on them.

It's not a terrible score—their TES is high enough that even with mistakes they're still strong contenders—but it's not what either of them wants, not with so many eyes on them, not with Delle and Khlyen around.

“I'm sorry,” Johnny says the second they're out of the public eye, and he's looking at Bellus, but he means it for Dutch. “I could have done better, I just got thrown. I'm sorry.”

“Hey.” Dutch squeezes his hand. “You weren't the only one on that ice. I almost two-footed the throw landing. We were just off. Everyone has off days, even during competitions. We're just going to have to be on for our free skate.”

“Damn straight you are,” says Bellus, interrupting their self-pity with her usual briskness. “We're practicing your lifts tomorrow. Seven in the morning, so you have time to see how the women's competitors do later in the day. And then you're going to skate the best damn free skate you've done in your lives, because fourth place isn't acceptable. You know better than to get thrown by a crowd.”

It takes Dutch a second to realize that no matter how disappointed they are, they're still in fourth, and unlikely to be dislodged with only two first-time competitors still to go. Being disappointed in a fourth-place finish, even in a generally lackluster competition, is a very good thing. “We'll do better.” She elbows John. “Right?”

His mouth is tight, and he's still taking it hard enough to make her nervous, but he meets her eyes. “Right.”

Bellus gives her a stern look behind his back, a clear admonition to fix him, and Dutch wonders how all of this happened so fast, how she came to be the obvious choice to help Johnny when he's upset. She nods back, though, and steers him through getting back into street clothes and going through the press room before dragging him back to the hotel. They were supposed to meet Pree and Clara for dinner, but he'll forgive them missing.

For the first few competitions, they booked separate hotel rooms. Now there's only one, with two beds, and they're going to end up in the same one by morning. Dutch drags John over to the one that's nominally his and leans against him until he starts to unbend. “I wonder if I really did you a favor, asking you to be my partner.”

“I was the one who dragged you to see my coach,” Johnny points out.

“I don't think the audience threw you,” she continues. “Do you—I think you have this belief still that I deserve a better partner, when you're the best partner out there. And I was nervous too, but I think you were nervous because of me, and I hate that.”

“You were the top-ranked pairs skaters in the world, even if you never won Worlds in the end. I never made it out of Regionals and I was two seconds from retiring. I'm the weak link here.” He falls backwards onto the bed, sprawling, and she takes the opportunity to pin him down so he can't leave until she's finished trying to get his head on straight. “I didn't do my best today, and you deserve my best.”

“Nobody did their best today, I think. Saving it for the free skate, I guess.” She hums and prods him until he puts his arm somewhere she can rest her head against. “So we didn't do our best.” Dutch thinks about meeting him on the ice, about finding the kind of synergy that strangers shouldn't have had, and the smile on his face that convinced her to give her competitive skating career one more try. “That doesn't mean it's over.”

“You want to win this?”

She wants to skate with him, and she almost says so, but Khlyen and Delle are here, and the world is watching, and more than just skating with him, she wants to prove that _he_ doesn't need to prove anything, that he's more than worthy of being her partner. She just wishes she didn't have to prove it to him as well. “Of course I want to win this,” she says, knowing their score will make it difficult to get the gold. As long as they're on the podium, though, they have a chance to advance. “I want everyone to know I have the best partner in the business.”

Johnny is silent for long enough that she thinks he might not answer. “In any business,” he finally says. “I would make a badass super spy.”

Dutch laughs. “You would. But for now I'll settle for us being badass on the ice.”

*

The day between the short program and free skate passes so quickly Dutch feels a little dizzy. They spend the morning practicing, tweaking their free skate until it flows beautifully until they could do it backwards with the flu and still make it through.

Dutch makes sure they're in the front row when the women's singles competition starts. Most of the skaters she doesn't know, but she makes sure to sit quiet and impassive through the entirety of Delle's very impressive short program, technically precise and perfect but a little clockwork, and to cheer along with Johnny when Clara finishes her program with a beautiful triple axel and a score that only trails Delle's by half a point going into the free skate.

“This will be the first time one of your old rinkmates has been in the same competition as you,” asks the blogger who corners her during one of the breaks. “Have you enjoyed getting to spend time with Delle Kendry again? What about your former coach, Khlyen? What's it like skating without Kazo?”

Johnny, she's discovering, is good with the press, always has something to say and remembers them from event to event enough that he can ask about their lives. Right now, though, he's in the stands, so she's left considering her answers to those questions, when no one has quite dared to come out with that last one before. “Honestly,” she finally says, “I'm concentrating on my present, not my past. I wish Delle the best of luck, obviously, and I'm grateful that Khlyen got me skating at this level, but right now, Bellus Haardy is my coach and John Jaqobis is my partner, and that's what matters to me.”

“There are rumors that your parting with your former home rink was less than—”

“I think everyone in the skating world knows that I had my reasons to want to start over anew, and that's all there is to the story. Like I said—my present partner, my present career, that's what's important right now.” Johnny, on the stands, is looking around for her, and she gives him a wave. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to him.”

*

They both sleep late on the morning of the free skate, but Johnny wakes first, and when Dutch yawns herself awake, he's already waiting with tea for both of them, since he claims caffeine makes them worse skaters but knows she likes something hot to drink in the morning. “You ready?” he asks, and it's almost a challenge, like it was that first night.

“Of course,” she says, and takes the tea.

Bellus spends half the morning lecturing them while they stretch and warm up before heading to the arena and getting ready to skate. Dutch's phone is full of texts wishing her luck from everyone at D'avin's rink, and John is getting just as many, including one from D'avin that makes him smile, though it's the only message he declines to let her read.

Pree and Pawter are both in the audience, and Dutch searches them out before they take the ice, to find them both carrying big signs for Yardeen and Jaqobis, ready to cheer like it's a hockey game. Khlyen is close enough that Bellus feels the need to cordially shake his hand, but he doesn't approach Dutch, just watches her. She doesn't let it bother her. John needs her at her best.

“You ready?” she asks him this time, as they're given their cue to go out on the ice and they start moving.

“Always,” he says, and leaves her to take his starting position.

The music starts, and Dutch relaxes. She knows this free skate, knows every single element of it, could dream her way through the whole thing, but that won't get them on the podium. She has to skate it like it's the hardest program she's ever skated in her life.

John is keyed up too, electric with it, and Dutch skates with him, reaches out for his hand when she's supposed to and keeps on skating, puts everything she has into every jump, every lift, into the death spiral when they get there, into the synchronized spin at the end. He never falters, never trembles, never misses a beat or a signal, and together, they skate the best program of Dutch's career.

Dutch can barely keep her grin contained when it's done, can barely remember to bow for the judges and for the crowd. Johnny takes her hand and almost pulls her off the ice, and Bellus greets them with their skate guards as they leave the rink, rolling her eyes at them and scolding Johnny for his hold on one of the lifts.

Both of them start laughing in the kiss-and-cry waiting for their scores, even though it's not really the best image to present. Dutch feels drunk on the skating, and she hopes they can do it again and again, push the difficulty on their programs until they can compete at Worlds with no trouble. The way she feels right now, she thinks they could do it.

“Personal best,” Bellus tells them with satisfaction when the scores come through, giving them a pleased nod while they swallow down their giggles and start waving and thanking everyone. “And best free skate of the day, no doubt. Not enough to get you the gold, but enough to let you advance, I think.”

They finish the day with silver medals, Pree and Pawter cheering them on, Delle clapping politely from the sidelines. Even Khlyen gives her a brief nod as she leaves the rink, and she thinks the congratulation there is sincere. They'll never be anything to each other again, she knows better than to trust him with her safety, much less a partner's, but he gave her the ice, and there will always be some kind of bond there.

“We just have to do that about a dozen more times and we'll really make something of ourselves,” says Johnny as they head back to their hotel room to get ready for the dinner Pree and Pawter have promised them, now that they aren't in the middle of a competition. They have the singles' free skates to watch over the next few days, and Dutch intends to take the opportunity to relax, and to cheer Clara on and see if she can really put Delle on her mettle.

“We're not going to win Worlds, probably, but I think we can make it there. I know we can.”

Johnny throws his arm around her shoulders. “Guess we'd better start working on an exhibition skate.”

*

Their reception back at the home rink is something like a party, D'avin greeting them both with hugs and congratulating them on the medal while asking Bellus if she's planning to poach Clara away from her coach, since Clara's in the market for a new coach according to the commentators and she and John are friends, not to mention the gold medal that had Delle obviously seething on the podium.

“We're going to have to shut the rink down during Nationals,” D'avin says when they've managed to field the congratulations of all their friends and suffered through a far-too-thorough examination of every program in the whole competition. “Nobody is going to be here to staff it.”

“Including you?” Dutch asks, so John doesn't have to.

“I never won a cup or a gold medal. I should be around for the Jaqobis brother that's actually managing it, right?”

The look on Johnny's face is worth more than the medal.

*

Dutch has been avoiding Kazo, but when he calls three days after Regionals, she picks up the phone for the first time since she left him behind.

“Hello,” she says, around the rush of guilt and grief and still more guilt knowing that the grief is the lesser emotion.

“Yala,” he replies, and he always was the only person who could call her that without her minding. “I watched the competition. You looked happy. You looked ...”

“I am happy,” she interrupts, because she has to, and she's surprised to find that her voice breaks over the words. “I'm so happy, and I'm so sorry.”

“You aren't the one who insisted on the risky elements. Or the one who screwed them up.” He sighs. “I'm glad you left Khlyen. He tried to talk me into calling you back here, he had partners lined up to audition for you, but … Jaqobis, he seems good.”

Dutch swallows. “He's so good. And I'm not sorry for the accident, I know who deserves the blame for that. I'm sorry that I'm so happy with him. You were an amazing partner, but Johnny, he's—”

“Sometimes people click. I'm jealous, but that's not your fault.”

“I'm sorry for not calling you, too. You deserved better from me.”

“I wouldn't have picked up for a long time. But maybe now we can have something. Maybe I'll buy a ticket if you and Jaqobis make it into Worlds.”

“To size him up?”

“No. Like I said, you're happy. I don't really care about the rest of it.” His voice lowers, gets disapproving. “You need to push him, though. More triples all around, and some of those lifts aren't as hard as he could take with some more practice. I've been thinking I might try some choreography sometime. Let me know if you want help. Turin is good, but I know your skating, and I could learn his.”

“You're not going to tell me he isn't good enough for me? Even he sometimes thinks that.”

“Of course he does, Yala. You're the best in the world. All the rest of us can do is keep up. But you're happy, so he's good enough for you.” And then, grudging but good-natured, “Plus, his spins and his PCS are probably better than mine. Don't tell him that, I want him to be scared of me when I tell him that if he drops you he's toast.”

Dutch laughs, and it doesn't even hurt coming out. “I think you'll like him. He's the best thing that could have happened to me, after you. I don't know if I would have come back to competition if it weren't for him, and I'm so glad to be back. With him. Do you hate me for that?”

“No. I'm jealous, but like I said, you're happy. And I'm getting there. Did anyone tell you I've applied to go back to college, get that engineering degree I was always talking about?”

“That's good. That's really good. I've been thinking about taking a class or two. My career won't last forever, new partner or not.”

“I hope it lasts,” he says. “Tell him that too.”

Johnny is due to get out of class in just a few minutes, and then he'll probably call her, ask if she's at the rink or the gym and if she wants some company for dinner. Dutch doesn't know how she'll bring up this conversation with him, but he deserves to know about it. “I will. He'll be glad to know somebody from the old rink approves, he's been feeling pretty low about it.”

“Tell him to call me if he's ever worried. I'll tell him that if you're happy, fuck everyone else's opinion about it. You're doing well this season, and that's because of both of you, not just you.”

Dutch swallows. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you too, Yala. But I'm really glad you're happy with him.”

*

They spend the weeks before Nationals pushing the difficulty of their programs as far as they can take them. Every double they can manage becomes a triple, everything they can do to scrape another point is done.

“I think we can do a triple axel throw,” Dutch says when it's just the two of them practicing a week before, Bellus off taking a call in D'avin's office. Dutch suspects it has something to do with Clara's increasing desire to come join their rink, and she thinks it will be a good thing. Clara will fit in with the rest of them, and Bellus needs some more students in championships.

John skates a slow spiral, considering that. “What was the throw that got Kazo?”

He's never been that blunt before, but Dutch can take it now in ways she couldn't when they first met, now that she and Kazo are texting every other day and he's reassured her a hundred times that the only person he blames is Khlyen. “Quad lutz. It was the release that fucked us up.”

“You realize this jump is out of my league, right? I want to check in and make sure that you are aware that I am just going to drop you, likely as not.”

“You're not going to hurt me. And we're going to be careful. But I think we can get pretty far with a triple axel in our free skate. I think we can get to Worlds. Maybe not the podium, but I think we can get there.”

He glides a little closer. “Talk me through it.”

They've got the double axel throw down, perfectly rotated every time, John staying on his feet. She's going to need more lift for this, more space. They talk about holds, about the exact point he needs to let her go so neither of them gets injured.

“Want to try it before Bellus gets back?” he asks once they've talked through the theory, tried out the hold they need to use. “Otherwise she'll stop us.”

In answer, Dutch backs up to the point in their free skate that would lead into the axel and starts gathering her momentum. He's only a beat behind her before he falls perfectly in sync, the same way he always does. It's easy to let him gather her in his arms, their combined speed making the air whip into her face. And then they're turning, his hold changing, and Dutch feels the squeeze on her side before he lets go.

She's flying for three gorgeous rotations, and then she stumbles on the landing and winds up crashed on her back in the rink.

“Dutch,” he's saying suddenly, frantic, and there's the scratch of skates against ice and he's standing over her, looking terrified out of his wits, and all she can do is laugh, gasping the air in at first and then gaining steam. “Dutch, hey, you're okay, right? Bellus is going to kill me if I threw you and broke literally any of your bones.”

She pushes herself to a sitting position, calming herself down with a few deep breaths and taking quick stock of how many bruises she's going to have in the morning. “You're okay,” she says, and hopes that explains some of her reaction. “You didn't fall down.”

Johnny's face softens, because of course he understands her. He always does. “Yeah, but you did. Come on, you expect me to believe you can't land a triple axel? We have to try that again tomorrow, once you've seen Pawter and used about sixteen ice packs.”

“Looks like Jaqobis had that one down better than you,” Bellus says from the edge of the rink, and Dutch whips around too fast to find her looking smug beyond all belief. “Keep up, Yardeen. Aren't you supposed to be world-class or something?”

Dutch lets Johnny pull her to her feet, trying not to make a face as all her muscles protest the movement. “Apparently not as world-class as my partner,” she says, trying not to beam too widely. “Are you going to tell us off?”

“No. I'm going to tell you to learn how to land a damn jump before you try that again tomorrow. You do want to win Nationals, right?”

Johnny grins at her and starts towing her gently to the edge of the rink. “Yeah, I think we do.”

*

“Yardeen and Jaqobis,” says the bored announcer at Nationals, calling them to the ice for their short program, and Dutch ignores Bellus's last-minute advice to meet John's eyes. He smiles and lets her grab his hand and tug him out to the ice, both of them smiling for the judges and the audience and mostly each other.

There's cheering, and as Dutch lets go of John so they can take their beginning positions, she catches sight of the group from their rink, all yelling like it's a hockey game, even Clara folded into the group. D'avin's in the middle of them, cheering and laughing, carrying a huge glitter-covered sign that reads _JAQOBIS/YARDEEN FOR THE GOLD_ that he seems to have managed to hit the head of the woman in front of him with, judging by her miffed expression.

Khlyen is around somewhere, and Delle, and others from their rink, but Dutch doesn't care about them. She cares about her new family, and about Kazo watching on TV at home like he promised he would, and she cares about Johnny, watching her steadily, waiting for her to take her position, waiting for the music to start. “You ready?” she mouths.

“We're going to do this,” he says, and the music starts.

**Author's Note:**

> **Music:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Dutch and John's short program is a condensed version of [Stroll Through the Sky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3hnNFlPhe0) from the Howl's Moving Castle movie (Joe Hisaishi).
> 
> Their free skate is The East Village Opera Company's version of Bizet's [Au Fond du Temple Saint](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PgYD5kM2asI). I apologize for the video on that one, I couldn't find a version without shirtless men, so NSFW warning on that.


End file.
